


Unexpected Playmate

by impish_nature



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: ...except Pigs, Don't Starve levels of violence, Don't copy to another site, Gen, He just doesn't want to be most of the time, Hurt/Comfort, Maxwell can be sweet if he wants to be, Maxwell's an idiot, Maxwell/Wilson if you squint, Webber can make friends with anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22884157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: Maxwell learns some lessons from the most unlikely of places.
Relationships: Maxwell & Webber (Don't Starve)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 103





	Unexpected Playmate

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for my lovely @atlasioh who wanted some hurt/comfort and I could not resist the idea once it took me <3

"...Such a strange child."

The words left him in a soft hush, blanketed and muffled by the inky pitch black around the fire. 

Maxwell blinked, sitting up straighter as he brought himself back out of his reverie. He was meant to be on watch for the rest of their rag tag camp, not zoning out with odd lingering thoughts. He hadn't even meant to say anything, amusement colouring his mind as well as fascinated befuddlement. 

Luckily, the rest of the camp were already mostly asleep, or not paying attention to him anyway. There was still a strained relationship to the whole affair, but at least they trusted him enough with this that he felt less like he might be stabbed in the night. 

It was probably this trust that had led him to people watch. After all, he had done many dastardly things to this group and yet once he had fallen from grace they had accepted him into their camp with minimal resistance. He hadn't ever expected that, not in all of his musings, so on nights like this when he had all the time in the world to muse, he couldn't help but let his curiosity run over the others, wondering just what kind of people he had dragged into the Constant with little remorse. 

Good people, as it turned out, and ones that had more intriguing stories to tell and lessons to be learned from, than he had thought possible.

However, the events of the day were colouring his musings of the night as he found himself caught by the movement of a rather fuzzy, small individual in their group. Or rather, the collection of small, fuzzy creatures that he had brought into their camp without question and had been rather put out when the others had given him a smaller campfire to the side of the main camp to house his new 'friends' around. 

Unfortunately for them, he had also decided to stay there instead of the main camp where they could look after him.

He was, after all, beneath the furry exterior- just a small child, and the others struggled to break through the urge to protect him, regardless of how he wandered off without them constantly.

It was all quite comical in his eyes. The boy had taken to the constant with stride once he had been changed by it. Whilst others feared the monsters, Webber had somehow made them into friends.

Again- fascinating. A feat he'd never expected.

So, with nothing else but sleeping bodies and the shrouded darkness of Charlie's abyss beyond the flames, his eyes kept wandering over to the small boy and his undesirable spider guests. He'd had to bite his lip from chuckling as the boy pushed them closer to the fire in their sleep, patting them if their eyes opened and mumbling soft things that didn't quite make it through the crackling of the burning wood to Maxwell's attentive ears. 

Laughter did escape him though as the boy wandered off to the edge of the fire light, stumbling back with a rather large log to dump on top of the cracking flames and almost tripping with the exertion.

The sound caught his attention, the boy's head tilting as he turned and caught Maxwell watching him. 

Maxwell tried to ignore the urge to look away and into the flames, as if he'd never been watching, it would be unbecoming to back down from the child's gaze as if scalded. He was the adult here, not some petulant, naughty, child.

Webber blinked at him, an unnerving gesture that he tried to not to shudder at. It wouldn't be so bad if his multiple eyes didn't blink at different times, what a ridiculous design flaw for a creature.

Maxwell finally broke eye contact when it became obvious the boy wouldn't, his new found curiosity in Maxwell eclipsing his own. 

It didn't do him any good though. No sooner had he broken eye contact that the boy seemed to take this as confirmation that he could move and started towards him, skipping over like he didn't have a care in the world. 

The one spider that was still awake trotted behind him, like some abhorrent dog trailing its master.

Maxwell tried his best to keep the disgust off of his face, but he was sure his ever present scowl wasn't all that much better. He pulled his gaze even further away, prodding at the fire as if it was the most interesting thing in the world and to deter any conversation.

"Want something?"

...It was a pity the boy didn't understand his social cues.

"No." He hadn't meant to be quite so sharp, glad that the others were not around to admonish him for his quick barbed response. But he did not want a conversation nonetheless, and usually with most, his raised hackles at least warranted a few steps back out of his personal space.

"Oh."

Maxwell relaxed slightly at the dejected noise, it wouldn't be long now until the boy gave up and wandered away again to his side of the camp.

What he hadn't expected was for the boy to get even closer and sit down almost in front of him to grab his attention back again.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Maxwell raised an eyebrow at him, irritated disbelief seeping through his words. "...I'm on watch for the night, remember?"

Webber beamed at him, his sharp, white teeth visible in the fire light.

Apparently the boy's sheer optimism rendered the rumbling snarl to his voice futile.

"Same! Keeping friends safe while they sleep." Webber patted the spider that had followed him, now curled up into a ball at his feet. 

Maxwell scrunched up his nose in distaste, watching the small creature fidget and settle under the boy's ministrations. "I see." He coughed, trying to keep the repulsion out of his words this time, for some unknown reason, not wanting to dampen the proud expression on the boy's face. 

His eyes flicked back down to the spider, it's fidgeting increasing as strange noises escaped through it's teeth. "What _is_ it doing?"

Webber followed his gaze, a soft, happy coo slipping past his lips as he continued to pet the spider, scratching and soothing it as it slept. "Aww, I think it's having a dream."

Maxwell couldn't keep the revulsion from dripping off his tongue. "Disgusting."

Webber pouted, glaring at him. "Meanie."

Maxwell rolled his eyes. "I've been called worse." He couldn't seem to pull his gaze away from the strangely moving spider. It was like a compulsion, watching it twist and shake. He couldn't imagine anything in the Constant dreaming. Nightmares, maybe, but dreams? 

Perhaps he shouldn't voice that though, he'd rather the boy left it asleep for as long as possible.

"What is that?"

"Huh?"

"On it's leg." Maxwell's eyes lingered on a leg that stuck out unlike the rest of it's scuttling mates, moving a lot more sluggishly if at all as the creature snuffled.

"Oh. An angry puppy got hold of him. But we taught the puppy a lesson."

"Ahh." Of course, there _had_ been the baying of hounds earlier that day. They'd dealt with a few of them in camp, but they had been pleasantly surprised by the dwindled number of them.

Now it made far more sense as to how little there had been.

He tried his best to ignore the strange mix of relief and nausea that bubbled up in his stomach at the thought of Webber playing with spiders and getting rather more than he bargained for. 

It also now made sense how he'd managed to bring back so much spider silk with him as well as his little troupe of friends.

"So, why exactly are you keeping it?"

Webber frowned, eyebrows furrowing. "Why?"

"It's injured. It can't be much use anymore."

"He just needs some food!" Webber's voice rose, aghast at the mere suggestion. "He'll be fine in the morning with some food."

"That's a waste of our resources." It was perhaps a little harsh, but a necessary lesson that the boy needed to learn.

Unfortunately, the boy just continued to glare at him, a pout forming as his hands clung to the spider instead of petting him now.

"That's not very nice." 

"Maybe not. But everything must have a use in this world, surely you know that."

"He has a use." 

Maxwell raised an eyebrow as Webber sulked, no longer meeting his eye. "Oh?"

"He's a friend. That's all the use he needs to be."

What was this painful feeling in his chest?

Maxwell coughed, trying to dislodge the strange sensation from his throat, hoping that he had somehow got something stuck in it instead of anything far worse in his opinion. "Right. Of course." 

It was probably for the best that he didn't argue with him anymore, regardless of the strange feeling settling in his stomach. 

After all, if he made the boy cry or similarly upset him, he was sure that he would lose the newfound favour that the others had bestowed upon him.

"I suppose..." Maxwell hummed as Webber looked back up at him, eyes suspicious. "You did bring back a lot of resources today that no one was expecting. Surely, no one would mind if you used a spider gland on your... friend here."

Webber's eye lit up for a second before dimming, biting at his lip thoughtfully. "Maybe... We'll wait until the morning to see if he's better on his own first. No waste."

Huh, perhaps some of his words had gotten through.

They sat in awkward silence for a long moment, Maxwell going back to tending the fire uncomfortably as the boy just sat stroking his pet without a word. He sighed as he watched the boy begin to sway, his eyelids drooping every few moments before he sat himself up again and the cycle began anew.

"You should sleep."

"Can't." A yawn cut out his words as he rubbed his eyes. "Gotta keep the fire nice and warm."

"I'm already keeping one fire lit, it won't be hard to do the other as well."

He didn't know why he offered, only that the words slipped from his tongue before he could really think about them.

"Really?" 

Maxwell frowned as the boy stared at him. He was more subdued than he had been before, doubtful distrust leaking into that one word like a foul taste. 

He was probably just tired, that was all.

"Really. So go to sleep already."

Webber stared at him for a few more moments, eyes wide and scrutinising regardless of how tired he had been only moments before.

"...OK." The small boy jumped up, scooping up the spider into his arms and scurried off to snuggle in amongst the warm, furry bodies he had left beside the other campfire.

Maxwell stared back into the fire once he was sure the boy had passed out completely, trying his best to push down the swell of guilt that beat in time with his heartbeat at how the boy clutched at his injured spider pet as if concerned about what Maxwell might do to him.

* * *

Time stretched strangely in the Constant.

Or perhaps it was just the absence of weeks, dates and days, the constant reminder of routines that embodied the real world that they had lost upon entering this one.

Regardless, Maxwell had no idea how long their group had been together anymore. It felt like mere days and endless aeons depending on quite how frustrated he was with them all.

He could, however, pinpoint that it had been an exact week since Webber and he had had their rather impromptu nighttime conversation.

How? Because the boy had been acting even stranger around him since, enough so that the others were beginning to notice it. 

He'd already had to brush aside Wilson's concern and accusations. Taking them in stride that perhaps the boy had just remembered what he had done to him the first time they had met.

For some mind boggling reason, that hadn't reassured the other man, leaving him to also scowl and avoid him for a while. 

They were all such emotional beings. 

But because of their scrutiny, he'd found it in his best interest to keep an eye on the boy where he could, always making up excuses for why he was going the same way as him when they were out foraging for resources. 

Definitely because of the other adults scrutiny. It had nothing at all to do with thoughts of hounds and spiders and _Charlie_.

No, nothing at all.

It also had nothing to do with making amends for some... unforeseen folly he may have made with his wording.

The trouble was, he wasn't quite sure which part of their conversation had made the boy suspicious of him again.

Not that it mattered- he wasn't keeping an eye on him for that reason... right?

Maxwell shook himself, going back to the tree that he had been chopping down, his latest excuse in following the boy. It did mean that he'd taken his eye off of him for a few moments but if the excuse was going to be believable then he had to have something to show for it. He paused to listen intently, huffing when he heard the boys inane chatter in the forest nearby. 

He really didn't need to do much to follow him, he wasn't the most sneaky of creatures to track.

With a groan, he gave the tree one last thwack, the accompanying groan of the tree giving him a rush of satisfaction. Job done, he could once more focus on his daily task. For a little while at least, until he needed to get some more wood to make up for the hours he would spend babysitting so that he had a reasonable excuse when they returned around the same time.

Before he could bundle up the logs however, a loud high pitched shriek rent the air. 

It was a sharp sound, one that drove through his heart and left him gasping, it was a sound of distress, of utter pain and it was something that he hadn't heard in a very long time. "Webber." The word came out as a puff of fear, his strides darting him off towards the sound without much thought into how it looked.

He stumbled through the trees, hearing more and more ruckus as he got closer, glad for the iron tight grip he had on his axe.

He may not be the best fighter but at a push he was sure he could be useful.

As long as he didn't accidentally hit one of Webber's little friends.

He came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the clearing, finally taking a moment to assess the situation instead of running blindly in.

It wouldn't do to hinder or make the situation worse.

It was hard to see anything with the multitude of creatures that were fighting in the open area. So many spiders- when had Webber gathered so many little friends? But that still didn't make sense as to why Webber had been-

Ahh.

Maxwell tutted, contempt colouring his face and his words. "Slobbering fools..." 

"I kill now!" 

The cry set off an alarm bell but to his relief the pigs were focused on the group of spiders encircling them and not the rather larger spider boy that he was more concerned about.

Or so he hoped- he couldn't quite catch sight of the blasted child.

"Come on, come on, where are you- there you are." Maxwell's eyes hooked on a spider that seemed to pull itself up out of the throng, thankfully at the edge of it all. He held a little hand up to his face, scrubbing up and down as if it hurt before coming out of it and turning back towards the carnage.

Maxwell cursed as he pushed back through the spiders, his high pitch yells carrying over to him with their disappointment and frustration.

"No! Stop! Stop fighting!" 

Maxwell pushed into clearing just as a pig turned to the small boy running towards it, without a weapon in sight.

"You go smash!" 

Webber shrieked again, propelled backwards by the pigs fist. Maxwell winced as his body scraped across the rough ground, smacking straight into a bush with another whining yell. Thankfully, the spiders descended again, just as Webber stood up on shaking legs, holding his arm at an odd angle. He looked ready to try again before his shoulders fell in defeat and he instead he bolted from the fight, scrubbing at his eyes as he did so, his other arm limp at his side. 

Unfortunately, he was headed away from Maxwell as well.

"Blast! Webber!" He was already out of sight before the words could escape him. He darted out of the brush, giving the ensuing fight a wide berth as he followed the boy's path. 

He hadn't got far.

Maxwell skidded to a halt as he heard sniffling nearby. He looked around in sharp, quick motions, spotting only a large boulder within the vicinity that the boy could be hiding behind.

He took his approach gently, not wanting to startle him into lashing out.

He'd rather not be attacked by a multitude of spiders if he could help it. That would be an awful way to go.

Maxwell poked his head around the rock, taking in the small ball of a boy, curled into himself, his head in his knees as he sniffled pitifully. "There you are."

Webber flinched, head snapping up to stare at him. "Maxwell!" He scrubbed at his eyes, trying his best not to wince as he used the wrong arm to do so. He stood up on shaking legs, leaning back against the rock and hiding his arm behind him in one quick motion. "Uhm- what are- that is- why-"

"I thought I heard a yell." Maxwell cut off the awkward words, not wanting him to freak out more than he already seemed to be.

"Oh." Webber looked down at his feet. "Was probably another spider."

Maxwell frowned. "Are you sure? You look a bit shaken up."

Webber shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Your face says otherwise." 

Webber scrubbed at his eyes again, glaring up at him. "Does not."

Maxwell sighed, squatting down to Webber's height. "You're bleeding." 

"No, I'm not."

Good lord, children were a pain. 

"Then why is there blood on you?"

Webber stared down at his arm, face twisting sulkily as he pushed it further out of sight. "It's not mine."

"Oh, isn't it? Whose is it then?" Maxwell waited as Webber stared off away from him, ignoring him entirely. "You're a terrible liar, Webber." He shuffled closer still, inspecting the small scratch along his cheek as well with a soft tut. "Just let me take a look and get you all patched up. I think I've got some honey poultice in my backpack-"

"No!"

Maxwell froze, hand still outstretched towards Webber. He swallowed, mildly hurt at the rejection of his help. "Would you rather I took you back to camp so Wilson can take a look?" His frown deepened as Webber shook his head fervently. "Then what?" 

"S'a waste of resources."

Oh dear.

"Now, how do you figure that?" Maxwell coughed, trying to push down the lump in his throat. It tasted strangely of guilt but he refused to acknowledge that.

Webber shrugged, kicking his feet against the rock. "Cause I haven't done anything useful today."

Oh dear. 

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Wilson was going to kill him.

"Nonsense."

Webber squeaked as Maxwell took matters into his own hands and picked him up. He propped him on top of the boulder so that he didn't have to squat whilst he did his work. The surprise didn't last long enough though, the young boy speaking up while he was rooting round in his bag for supplies.

"What's nonsense?"

"That you haven't been useful. You're very useful."

Webber shook his head. "Not today though!"

"And? You don't have to be useful every day." Maxwell rolled his eyes, tugging Webber's arm towards him. "Besides, are you saying you wouldn't help someone else at camp if they were hurt just because they hadn't been helpful that day?"

"No!" Webber tried to tug his arm away indignantly, before his eyebrows furrowed deeply and he shot Maxwell a glare. "But you said-"

"And you listened?" Maxwell smirked at him, or as best he could in that moment, when he really felt like grimacing. "Thought you'd know by now that that was a foolish idea." 

Webber huffed, but didn't answer. Maxwell took it as a win that his shoulders relaxed and he stopped trying to pull away. 

Perhaps he was getting somewhere with that mistake of his.

Not that he was trying to rectify anything, of course.

Webber kicked his feet as Maxwell tended to his wounds, trying his best not to wince or fidget as his arm was bandaged up and the cut on his face was checked over. At least he no longer seemed worried that Maxwell wouldn't help him, or worse would throw him aside like one of his spiders- a thought that Maxwell was pointedly trying not to let take root in his skull, lest the shame of it morph into something more. Instead he turned his gaze back to the way they had come, towards the little dots of light where the pig houses sat, his face falling and scrunching up as if he was trying not to cry.

"Why do they hate me?"

Maxwell sighed at the quiet utterance, hating how it tugged at his heartstrings.

Having a heart was really rather tiresome.

"You shouldn't take it personally." Maxwell pulled away to make them a torch as the gloom made it difficult to finish his work. He could feel Webber's eyes on him, though he stayed silent as if waiting for him to elaborate. Unable to take the silence, he did. "Spiders and Pigs are just natural enemies in the Constant. They can't help but fight one another."

"That's silly."

Maxwell chuckled. "Perhaps. But it's the way things are."

"Things should change."

Maxwell couldn't help but agree, and who was he to say what could and couldn't change after his remarkable fall from grace? "They should. But where would you start?"

"... I don't know. Somewhere. I'll tell the spiders off for attacking pigs."

Maxwell laughed. "Will you tell them off for attacking us too?"

"I do! Spiders understand once you give them food."

"But the others still attack us."

Webber pouted. "And you guys attack back. All silly. All of you. We can all be friends."

Maxwell nodded. "I guess we are all very silly." He finished tying up the last bandages around his arm, tightening it slightly before tugging at the knot. "How does that feel?"

Webber nodded noncommittally, his eyes still locked to the pig houses as if just willing them to understand would make it all come true.

What was this protective urge rearing its ugly head in his chest?

"Do you know the story of the three little pigs?"

Webber turned back to him, tilting his head. "Uh-huh?" 

"What's the best thing a pig should make his house from?"

"Stone!" Webber chirped, kicking his feet again, easily distracted from his injuries and dismayed thoughts. Maxwell wished it was that easy when you were older.

"And what have the pigs here made their houses out of?"

Webber hummed, glancing over at the house thoughtfully. "Uhm... wood?"

"Then they better watch out, hadn't they?" Maxwell held out his arms to set Webber back on the ground. "Cause I'll huff and I'll puff-"

Webber squeaked delightedly as he was picked back up, his face beaming as he prodded Maxwell in the chest before being put down. "You're not the big bad wolf!"

Maxwell raised an eyebrow at him, trying to keep a straight face as the child laughed at him. "Oh, aren't I?"

Webber shook his head. "Nu-uh. You don't make noises like the doggies do."

Maxwell choked on a laugh.

"And Wormwood doesn't call you a woofer."

...Oh the simplicity of childhood.

* * *

Somehow, even with a spider child practically hanging off his arm and talking his ear off, the other camp mates still seemed unsure about him.

Though, perhaps they knew, that a child's attention was about as constant as the tide. It ebbed and flowed depending on what new and exciting thing was happening around them.

One minute Webber couldn't look at him, the next he refused to so much as sit a few feet away from him, all with a drop of a hat as far as the rest of them were concerned.

Then again, he _had_ arrived back in camp with a still mildly sniffling child, his head and arm bandaged up as well as he could- which considering he was hardly used to the task, was not the best.

The fact that Webber had got hurt at all if he could have prevented it, had instantly set some of them off, regardless of the small boy hiding behind his legs as if he was in trouble.

Then again, Maxwell was used to their ire so it was probably for the best they turned on him instead of that fearful scolding that appeared when talking to rather reckless children.

If anything he was rather less fortunate with Wilson's intrigued stare, watching the others snarl and snap whilst he redid Webber's bandages. There was a glint there, a thoughtful tilt to his head, like he knew that Maxwell was forcing the attention on to himself. Forever, the magician on his stage, misdirecting and corralling them as only he knew how.

He was even more unfortunate when he realised Wilson was still watching him when the others took Webber out of his eye line and that irritatingly protective urge reared back up again and plastered it's displeasure across his face. Or perhaps it was more how he relaxed as the small bouncing ball of a boy struggled his way back out of their grasp and scurried back to sit beside him.

...Apparently, he was trustworthy now.

...How naive.

But he guessed, only time would tell, if the others would follow suit or not, after this latest debacle.

* * *

The clinging didn't last for long.

And thankfully the defensive urge fizzled out along with it.

If the child felt confident enough to wander off on his own again, then he would rejoice in his much needed solitude once more.

There was only so... _much_ he could handle.

At least while he'd been on a stage there had always been a general boundary between himself and everyone else. His own personal space, peace and quiet, that had been severely hindered and lacking since joining this confounding group of people. 

Which was why it had been a relief to walk in the completely opposite direction that morning, out to gather his own resources without anyone else's input.

That is until he stumbled across his past.

Suddenly, being alone didn't seem quite so appealing.

He stared at his own visage, victorious satisfaction plastered across a stony exterior. His own face twisted in response, an ironic grimace marring skin and flesh. He raised a hand towards the cold carved rock, skimming over the details he remembered requiring in his monument. The outstretched arms, no longer a magician longing for an audience, but a king commanding the attention of one.

He could hear the laughter that wished to rise from the statues lips, that hollow crow that mocked and tormented so many. 

He'd been so sure of himself, so eager to push the boundaries between Them and himself.

So eager to please.

It had been so easy to forget that he was just as much a puppet on a string to Them.

Looking back, he wasn't sure when it had happened. When he had changed.

He hadn't been that dark before the Constant, he was sure of it. Before he'd found the Codex.

What had he let Them do to him?

What had he done to himself?

When had he stopped caring?

Or more importantly- when had he started caring again?

"It seems so foolish now..."

Maxwell pulled his hand away from the rock like it burned, but in reality he felt cold. Sickly and clammy as he stared at his reflection- who he was, who he had once been.

He didn't want to be that person anymore.

"Careful now, eh? I don't want to wake up any more of those horses."

Blast.

He was not in the mood for company, especially not now. Not _here_.

Maxwell's flicked around, settling on a grove of trees off to the side. He darted there quickly, sinking down so as not to be seen, hoping that whoever it was would quickly continue their travels elsewhere.

"You know, I wouldn't mind seeing another. I still haven't figured out how they work."

Ah. Ever the scientist. Maxwell snorted, covering his mouth quickly. If he hadn't watched the other get resurrected over and over again across the Constant, he'd wonder how he'd never got himself into trouble with that scientific curiosity of his.

"I'd rather we didn't, please don't wake any more up, otherwise you'll be answering to Lucy."

"They're boring, they don't play chess properly anyway- hey, whats that?"

Oh drat. 

How had he forgotten the rather obvious consequence of the area? 

There was no way the others would just carry on their treks when there was a goddamn statue of him standing in all it's glory in the middle of a chess pieces lair.

He guessed he had Charlie to thank for that comedic affair.

...Thanks, Charlie.

His teeth clenched as footsteps got closer and closer to his hiding space. He closed his eyes as one of them whistled, a long, drawn out sound that was laced with disbelief but mostly dripping with sarcasm.

"Heh, he's a lot shorter in person, isn't he?"

Maxwell huffed, covering his mouth to stop from choking out a laugh.

He should be insulted. Offended. But honestly, he was far too used to Wilson by now to be surprised by his impertinence.

If anything he was rather relieved. The scientist had no idea he was listening, he could have said anything in that moment. 

A slight to his height was about as good as he could have hoped for given the circumstances.

"Hey, didn't he come this way earlier? You think we can catch up to him?"

Maxwell scowled at Woodie's voice, tightening his curled up position on the floor to make sure they didn't catch sight of him. 

No way was he greeting them now. Not if they wanted to converse about... this.

He tried not to sigh in relief at Wilson's non-committal response.

"Shame. Guess we'll have to make fun of him later, eh?"

His scowl deepened. 

Heaven forbid he try to forget all of this ever happened.

Then again... he guessed he deserved it really.

"What do you think, Webber?"

Maxwell raised an eyebrow from his hiding space. There was a very pointed tone to that question, nonchalant and yet entirely focused. 

He couldn't help but wonder if this was his way of testing the waters, now that he had the boy on his own.

Or well, in front of Wilson but that didn't seem to matter. Unlike him, everyone seemed to trust Wilson.

"Hmm?"

There was a thoughtful lilt to the hum, like Webber was contemplating a lot more than Maxwell could fathom from the tone. 

Not that it mattered, obviously. But he was intrigued by how seriously he was taking the question when the other two had mocked his statue.

"We're still a little mad at him..." 

Huh. Not as naive as he appeared. 

Maxwell was oddly proud of the boy.

Pride. Yes. That's what that sharp feeling in his chest was.

"But only a little."

* * *

The camp had become a lot more bearable now that it was clear that he hadn't upset the spider child. The others were a lot more forgiving in their stares as well as their actions now that the boy ran up to him and chattered inanely at him no matter how hard he tried to dissuade the activity.

He also couldn't stand that knowing smile on Wilson's face whenever it happened.

Thankfully they had all lost interest recently as the seasons changed, and with it, a number of strange objects could be found around the area. 

Useless, frivolous items, but he guessed there was a use in them, keeping up morale as they did.

Apparently yelling that he wasn't a vampire when they kept giving him the broken stakes they were finding only heightened their need to find more of them. 

And so what if he brought back any he found to add to the growing pile that the others liked so much? It wasn't like _he_ liked them. They were far too tacky for his taste. 

It wasn't that he had found a gaudy ring, complete with eight little legs and thrown it towards a small boy. It wasn't his little happy shout of 'A friend for our finger!' that led him to collect more of the items because he might like them.

Not at all.

Never.

He wasn't sure what the others thought anymore as the small boy ran over with his latest find- a small fake spider dangling from a string.

"Maxwell, look! It's a fake friend!" He jiggled it in his face as Maxwell crouched down to take a look at it. "What do you think?" 

"Hmm... I think I like the real ones better." Maxwell internally winced, waiting for that disappointed face he found he now loathed when he accidentally put his foot in it. He just couldn't quite keep up a filter around them when he'd never had to before.

Not that it mattered.

Webber grinned at him, eyes lighting up. "Really? Me too! But this is still cool. We should hang it somewhere." And with that he was off, leaving a bemused Maxwell in his wake.

A soft laugh brought him back to his senses.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd grown rather fond of the boy."

Maxwell huffed, feeling his cheeks warm in embarrassment as an indignant strangled noise sat at the back of his throat. He stood up quickly, dusting off his suit as he did so.

"Preposterous. It's a good thing you know better, Higgsbury."

**Author's Note:**

> The quote 'Why do they hate me?' was what set this ball rolling. Poor Webber just wants some friends!!   
> I had a lot of fun with game dialogue so hopefully none of this seemed ooc. <3  
> Hope you enjoyed! xx


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